Tufts

Tufts are small, fist-size knobs of earth sticking up from the Black Water. They tend to exist in clusters, which makes them deadly to boats but convenient foot-holds.

He straddles the black water, each boot on a different tuft, standing with the easy balance we all must learn or else we die. “There’s something over there!” I hate the tufts— knobs of land sticking out of the water, covered with limp grass like dirty hair. If there are a lot of them, we have to carry the boats.